Given this is the time of the season when predictions are expected of the good gentlemen of the Press, I'll put my neck on the block and say Dion Dublin for Player of the Season and Southampton to be relegated by virtue of goal difference.
One, of course, is about as good a nailed-on certainty as you can ever get this side of the Wensum; the other isn't.
Why the Saints? Well, for me and for many, I suspect that last weekend's home clash with Burnley was their 'banker' game – just as QPR tomorrow has long been Norwich's.
Something that, perhaps, Glenn Roeder was working on when he opted not to throw both Dublin and Darel Russell into the fray against West Brom on Saturday.
Keep their powder dry for the Rs; don't risk two of your biggest players in a game that you were always going to do very well to win.
Give Master Gibbs a run to keep Arsene Wenger happy; keep Russell and Dublin for when it really matters.
Which is why, you suspect, that Steven Caldwell's winner at St Mary's was the killer blow – particularly once Southampton turned to the next little task on their survival agenda.
A trip to the Hawthorns to play a West Brom side who will have their eyes firmly on becoming the first team to scamper over the finishing line for automotic promotion. And Saints know all this.
They know that if Norwich can even muster a point against QPR, they are as good as home – that defeat to the Baggies would need them to rack up a cricket score against Sheffield United in their final home game.
No easy prospect if the Blades can just keep their own play-off hopes alive for another week.
For my money, the ones with their neck in the noose are Southampton; the boardroom is a shambles; an extraordinary general meeting looms next month with both administration and the return of ex-chairman Rupert Lowe on the agenda.
And all, of course, with Youssef Safri leading them out into battle as the newly-appointed Saints skipper. That, I confess, would worry me.
I was always a big fan of the Canary play-maker.
He could pass a ball all day long and, could look after himself. But when it came to the mother of all survival games at Fulham one spring, he wasn't one that stood too far up to be counted.
In fact, he slumped down and limped off with groin trouble. Right down in the trenches, when the whistle blows and it's 'Over the top!', I'm not completely convinced.
On Monday night, we'll all find out...
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